Things Left Behind: Roy
by Laelia Sarai
Summary: Roy returns from Ishbal to discover he is one of many things that have been left behind. From Roy's POV. Rated M for later chapters. Roy/Maes, Maes/Gracia.


**Author's Note:** Well, after a long absence, I've decided to come back for the sole purpose of getting reviews. I know, I'm an attention whore, but seriously people, reviews make me write more, faster. So, if you like this, PLEASE review and you'll get more relatively quickly! Thank you and enjoy.

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Fire. Fire was consuming the buildings around him, and there was so much of it. Fire from his alchemy, and Kimbley's, and Grande's… Roy wouldn't complain if he never saw a fire again.

He felt like he was being stripped away by the heat of the flames and the smell of burning flesh. His youth and his innocence - Roy had once been so naïve and innocent, bright eyed and seeking to carve his name into history as a saviour of the people - were completely wiped out as he watched the city burn.

The screaming had stopped, at least for this block, but Roy could still hear it in the distance. Women screaming. Children screaming. Both groups of Ishbalans largely unarmed; the military had all but wiped out the actual Ishbalan militants, but he was still ordered, still pushed to destroy and murder.

'Mustang!'

Roy whipped around, his unit's commander behind him.

'I have a special task for you, Mustang.'

'Sir…?'

'There are some doctors being held back at the base…'

The train stopped and it jerked Roy awake. He sat up and looked around, recognizing Central's train station. He stood slowly, his movements slow and lethargic, pulling the strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder.

He was eager to get home and see Maes again. Roy felt soulless, like a murderer with unclean hands. He felt so forsaken and he needed to touch something alive, something warm, something that wasn't a gun or the mass of dead bodies the soldiers had to relocate.

Roy felt just as dead inside as the countless number of unarmed Ishbalans he had murdered for so-called justice.

As weak as it made him feel, Roy wanted to die. The weight of what he did crushed him, the pain enough to make him want to take his own life. He even tried to in Ishbal, after he killed the Amestrian doctors. He still remembered the feeling of his gun pressed up against his chin, ready to end his life in whatever little retribution to those he had massacred.

Even though Marcoh had distracted him, Roy still believed he would not have gone through with it. Not because he was a coward, but because he had someone waiting for him. Maes would help him, he knew. Maes would take all Roy's depression and anger and turn it outward into something that would benefit others instead of hurt himself. Maes had always been creative like that.

Blinking rapidly to rid his mind of his depressing thoughts, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and getting off the train, headed away from his hellish past and toward his confidante, best friend, and lover.

He ignored the taxis that milled around the busy train station and decided to walk home to give himself some time to clear his mind. He spotted a small liquor store about halfway to his apartment and stepped inside, ignoring the people who stopped what they were doing to watch the zombie-like Major walk slowly through the aisles.

Roy stopped in front of the selection of wine, his eyes scanning the shelves for Maes' favourite, the wine they always drank together when they wanted to get drunk and not just as a compliment to Maes' cooking.

Picking up two bottles (yes, Roy needed the alcohol /that/ badly), Roy headed to the cashier, fumbling through his things for his wallet that he hadn't even seen in months, paying quickly before heading out again, the alcohol held tightly in his hands.

Getting drunk wasn't the only reason Roy picked out this particular wine, because every time he and Maes even drank a little bit of it, they ended up in bed together, tangled up in the twisted sheets and in each other. As selfish as it made Roy feel, that was something he needed; he needed the warmth of another body to make himself feel alive again, for the first time in what felt like forever.

As lost in his thoughts as he was, Roy almost walked past the block his apartment was on. He looked toward the building and realized for the first time how much his feet hurt, his military boots digging into the backs of his heels and he was sure he'd rubbed them raw. Just another thing he would need help with. He was too depressed to care about the pain.

With a deep breath, Roy headed upstairs, walking up the 4 flights lethargically, one step at a time. It took him nearly 5 minutes to reach the 4th floor, so consumed by his thoughts that he frequently forgot to move.

Reaching his apartment finally, he reached out and balanced the bottle of wine in his hand as he turned the handle, swinging the door open, his eyes roving over the small space, having expected Maes to be cooking something at this time.

However, what he did see shook him so completely he stopped breathing, the wine bottle slipping from his outstretched hand and shattering on the floor. He was only dimly aware of the glass fragment that embedded itself in his leg and the wine that stained his pants from the knee down. If he wasn't keenly aware of his heart pounding in his ears, Roy would have sworn that he had just died.

Maes wasn't in the kitchen, and he wasn't doing anything remotely related to cooking dinner. Instead, Roy's eyes were locked on the form of his lover under a thin sheet, his clothes strewn across the floor, and his arms around a young blonde woman Roy had never seen before, her breasts only half hidden by the sheet and Maes' arm around her waist.

Roy took a step back, his whole body shaking, never tearing his eyes away from Maes and the woman in his bed.

He watched as Maes rolled over, the other man's eyes going wide when they recognized who was in the doorway.

"Roy?"

His tone was confused, shocked and panicked, but none of that registered in Roy's mind. He was still shaking, his own eyes still wide and full of unconcealed pain as he slowly pointed a shaky finger to the bed Maes still laid on.

"W…what…"

He couldn't even speak. His throat constricted painfully and he felt like he was going to choke.

"You… you're home… you said you weren't going to be home until 8..."

Roy's mind slowly started to work again, anger bubbling it's way to the surface, regaining control over his speech little by little.

"What… is happening? Who is she?"

He didn't need to ask. Roy knew exactly what had happened. He watched Maes stagger to his feet and pull another sheet around his waist, his eyes placating as he looked at Roy.

"Roy, I know, I know what this looks like, and I'm sorry. But, please, just give me a chance to explain."

Looks… was it his sight that was deceiving him? Or was it Maes?

Had Maes been deceiving him all along?

"What it… what it /looks/ like?! What the hell has been happening?!"

Roy couldn't bring himself to speak the words, feeling sick, like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time.

"Please, Roy, please just sit down and give me a chance to explain."

Maes took a few tentative steps toward Roy, but Roy took a half step backward, his body shaking, but not with shock this time. Rage coursed through him as he spoke.

"No! No, there is nothing to explain! I've been… I've been fighting a war and you've been screwing around behind my back!"

Tears sprang to Roy's eyes, unbidden by him, the stress too much for his body to handle now, growing cold even in the humid summer air.

"I could have died and you… you…"

"And I messed up, Roy! I know I did and I'm sorry, but please, I do have a reason! You just need to let me talk to you."

His fists clenched at his sides, Roy didn't even realize he had dropped his duffel bag off his shoulder, the other bottle of wine resting atop it. Resisting the urge to cross the room and punch Maes in the jaw, Roy spoke again, raw emotion flaring up in his voice.

"A reason? You have a /reason/ to /lie/ to me?!"

He took another step back, shaking his head as he did, his heart still pounding in his ears.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Please, Roy! Just give me one chance, I didn't mean for it to happen this way."

Roy backed up until his back was against the opposite wall in the hallway, shaking his head the whole time, suddenly feeling sick.

"It shouldn't have happened at all!"


End file.
